The car whose beeping I heard tomorrow
don’t transcend
let me see
the suit I put on tomorrow
let me see
washing machine
propensity for trinity
let me see
pulmonary powder, used
is just another part of the harassment details
in the wake of tissue and in the wake of tomorrow
tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow

The other, unhappy, I, in rapture, full of cry,
I secretly bow my ears to the air,
It’s bitter under the tunnel
Almost transparency
Everything was crying.
Be whole in the veil

I washed my hunger in my stomach tomorrow
in a sentence with a short lifespan
you walk alone and you walk alone
and you run into the bars
and skip the bars
you skip the bars

The memory started that the bars were simply the bars
in a gas puddle
in the fish trail
in the flesh, my machine did not wash it
for the bars is the bars
now especially when the veins are close to the bloodstream
then, it won’t be

in unmodified veins, scattered bottoms seek etiquette
in my forgery of canyoning
What smells like announcing the space of individual songs is reminiscent of home
I know how it is, you know how it is, not everyone is beside me
a canvas for a feather and all things

I’m someone else’s hallucination
Scattered remains of will, Unknown Someone
Where the views have reached, the future memory is constantly delayed in its arrival
the stonecutter, silent and shaded, did not utter a voice
And we just didn’t leave it all out.

I’m not ashamed
of inspirations, veins, and tendons of terrible snakes
I love stinking flies, heavy in copper
I love sick roses
It’s just a little thorn left on my cheek
and I have no allusions
and I have no illusions whatsoever
and I do not deserve relief
I ate a mirror from a counter of fifty young bunches
in someone’s stomach,
so my home became a little cramped.
I ate a motionless spider immortalized in cobwebs

I’m floating on a tray of a busy Belgrade street
in a deaf room
I was bent and hungry looking at the sky
from an ideal angle
behold, hands are peeling away in glass,
at an incomparable address restores faith
in the mortal covenant with innate signs

Here, my hands are quite a clear
Part of the speech on the other side of the sheet
she misspelt the right words,
he collected the blurred images
all that was spilt and collected
into one flashing point
between locks and secret places

after much effort and hard work
I managed to turn the mythical river
towards the old man from the beginning
that doesn’t get off track
he is alive, but he is away from home
whenever I pass by

You came out of yourself finally like a pigeon from a cage
and the symbolism of the tiny sparks that disappear
I collect
sometimes absent sometimes
all around with irrepressible actions
emptiness, freedom of oblivion,
successful metaphors swallowed symbols
tamed snake, the foremother of small intestines
you shine a green light like a mythical image
there are many great secrets in orientation
and I play the game I found myself in

I drag toys behind me for people to hear
a flower came out of the way to pray to the god,
a sail, red, juicy like hell on a grill
The glassmaker rolls from conviction to the throat
between the heart and the abyss
his cheek dropped, a glint in his speech
which house is burnt in flames? – I see its reflection already growing in the stone

I switched roles with the one I hunt
now it’s lurking inside and luring me inside
help squeeze my lips to miss me
close my door so my days don’t go away
toss a grenade to slow them downs
so they didn’t see us go through the mirror.

climax
socks under sandals
holes below
pork rinds
shiny bare heels
Take that to your goddamn death
where you so disgraced us
when so trips over her damn shoe cousin
ascends to dark
between toilet and scaffolding
it couldn’t, it couldn’t be anymore
there in the pigeon feathers

from massive fat steaks
dense ground clusters
sparkling in the shadow of the warehouse
for medical waste
well sprinkled with rust of iron bones
under the window sill, balcony
from which the Crown Prince’s worm will be processed
Verklaa war on
the beginning of the stench and the end of silence

There is no death except for one.
That hour is yet to come.
However, time and space do not exist.
And I remain a naked hungry ghost.
a faded fire in the eyes,
a numb hand on my chest
as I lay dying, among the graves.
a wide-open mouth spitting
hundreds of poisonous flowers.
A knife impaled in the stomach,
made up of a thousand thunder bolts!
I’m purged through a holy fire of bonfires and stars!
What thrill’s wave!
Bloody ravines everywhere,
Bastards over the world:
malvados, screams, bloody ravine, villain
Schwein, everywhere,
now and to come:
I absolve you all.